The Time Machine
by BangelAndCoffee
Summary: A multipart sequel to Better Angels of our Nature. AU of course. And beware this is quite possibly more angsty than Better Angels! Don't say I didn't warn you!
1. The Time Machine

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – "The Time Machine" belongs to Colin Raye, and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: PG-13, I suppose, for a little bad language and adult themes, and a whole lot of angst.

Dedication: To all the wonderful folks who reviewed Better Angels – Thank you all so much! And to the city of Portland, for being a great second home!

Author's Note: This is the first chapter of what I hope will be a multi-part sequel to my last work, Better Angels of our Nature. Each chapter will feature a different character's POV. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with.

* * *

_He circled and stared  
Nervous and scared  
He knew both the thrill and the cost  
But he didn't think twice  
This amazing device  
Was his last chance to see what he'd lost  
If time is really a river  
And upstream's where he needed to be  
He set his sights on the past  
Finished his glass  
And went back in history_

How can this be? She was the slayer – nothing could touch her, certainly not some stupid disease they don't have a name for. This isn't right! Dammit, this isn't right! How can anything hurt this bad? I think I'm damned more with this pain than without a soul. All I've been able to do since she – well, all I've been able to do is sit here in Willy's Place and drink. It's been almost a month now – I drink until Willy throws me out at closing. I stumble home, sleep till nightfall, and then I come back. What else can I do? She's never coming back. All the time we could have been together, and I was Angelus – it's all my fault. If I could have been close to her, maybe we could have seen the signs earlier, given her more time to fight – it's my fault!

_To the casual eye it's a bar stool  
But it's really much more than it seems  
Just a few drinks and then  
She'll be with him again  
As he sits on the time machine_

So I drink. And I remember that one perfect night we had together – she was so beautiful. God, I loved her so much! In all my long years, she's the only one I've ever met who made me feel like I belonged to someone. She's the only one I would ever have given a claddagh to, the only one I would ever have even considered giving one to. And then I destroyed her. I could make excuses for myself and what I've done, say that it was Angelus who did those things, but I can't accept that. I remember them, and so I did them. Fittingly, of course, it was Buffy who brought me back – her diary. I took it from her hospital room that night – it stays in my back pocket as a reminder of what I've done, and what it cost me. I pray that the little smile on her face just before she went meant that she heard me – but in my heart of hearts I fear that she went to her grave believing what happened to me was her fault, and I just can't live with that. So I drink.

_Like all pioneers  
He swallowed his fears  
And watched the whole room fade to black  
He's dying to go  
But he's no fool, he knows  
How hard it will be to come back  
But tonight he's tired of the lonely  
And tomorrow will not be the cure  
So he'll just slip away  
Find yesterday  
And spend one more night with her_

Her friends have tried to get in touch with me – the Scooby gang, she laughingly called them – but I've gotten pretty good at not being found. I could never look any of them in the eyes after what I've done, and whatever comfort they could offer would be cold. I don't think any of them have truly forgiven me – nor should they. For I cannot forgive myself. And so I've carefully avoided them, paying Willy well to keep quiet about my whereabouts – and I've had to pay him very well, as they've roughed him up a few times lately. Tonight, after I leave the bar, I think I'll mail this letter to Joyce. She deserves to know what it says.

_Now as far as these customers can tell  
He's just one more fool who talks to himself  
But every man in this place would line up  
If they knew what that seat really was_

I mailed the diary. I hope it helps. But I can't take this anymore. In the alley behind Willy's, I found a sharp stick. I don't think I'll go to whatever place Buffy's gone to, because I've done too many things I can't take back, but if I'm going to be in hell, I might as well be in the real thing rather than this hell on earth. I'll hold this stake to my chest and picture her face, smiling and beautiful and forever young. I wonder if it'll hurt?

_To the casual eye it's a bar stool  
But it's really much more than it seems  
A few drinks and then  
She'll be with him again  
As he sits on the time machine_

* * *

Author's Note The Second: Is Angel dead? I'm not sure - that'll have to wait for another chapter!


	2. Goodbye To You

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – "Goodbye To You" belongs to Michelle Branch, and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: PG-13, I suppose, for a little bad language and adult themes, and a whole lot of angst.

Dedication: To all the wonderful folks who've reviewed my work so far – especially vanillagigglez, thanks for all the kind words!

Author's Note: Chapter 2. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with.

* * *

_Goodbye to you  
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew  
You were the one I loved  
The one thing that I tried to hold on to_

I thought maybe the worst was over. That maybe the tears, the anger and the pain were done. But it's never over. I opened the mailbox this morning and found a package in a brown paper envelope with no return address – just the name "Angel" scrawled in the upper left corner. Buffy's friends had been looking for Angel, but this package would be no help in finding him. I tore it open, and out fell a small book. My heart nearly stopped as I read the cover – "The Diary of Buffy Summers." I had searched every corner of every room for this after my Buffy died. Angel must have taken it from the hospital! Just before I managed to get really angry, I noticed the letter that was still in the envelope. My hands trembling, I unfolded the letter.

_Joyce:_

_I know I'm probably the last person in the world you want to hear from. I caused Buffy more pain than I can ever forgive myself for, and I am truly sorry. However, I've held on to this diary for far too long. You deserve to have it, and you deserve to know what it says._

_So please share this diary with Giles and Buffy's friends, so that they can know they were in Buffy's final thoughts. And please tell them to stop looking for me. I don't want to be found, and more importantly by the time you receive this letter, I'll probably be dead – unless I once again demonstrate my lack of guts by not ending this myself. Either way, this is the last contact I will have with any of you. I hope someday all of you find peace in your own way. I ask for no forgiveness, and I expect none. Goodbye to all of you._

I stumbled back into the house, and virtually collapsed onto the couch. Opening Buffy's diary, I began to read. I read until I felt my heart could take no more, and then I reached the end. Buffy's last words, which I never got a chance to hear. Then, the brave front I had put up since she died finally collapsed. I cried. I cried until my body shivered and my muscles ached with exertion. I cried as only a mother who has to bury a child can cry.

_Goodbye to you  
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew  
You were the one I loved  
The one thing that I tried to hold on to_

I don't know how many hours I laid there, but the sun had set when the doorbell rang. I collected myself as best I could, went to the door and opened it. There stood two girls: both with black hair, one who looked about Buffy's age – but with much older eyes - and another who couldn't have been more than twelve. "Mrs. Summers?" asked the older girl.

"Yes, that's me," I answered slowly. "Do I know you?"

The older girl smiled sadly. "No, you don't. But you should. My name is Faith, and this is my sister Dawn."

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I still don't know who you are."

"I know that you don't," Faith replied. "But Dawn was supposed to be your daughter."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger again. This one's kind of got off the rails on me, and I have no idea where it's going to end up. And I promise the Angel question will get resolved soon!


	3. Picture

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – "Picture" belongs to Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow, and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: PG-13, I suppose, for a little bad language and a much more adult themes, and a whole lot of angst.

Dedication: To the reviewers - it wouldn't be worth it without you!

Author's Note: Chapter 3. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with.

* * *

_Livin' my life in a slow hell_  
_Different girl every night at the hotel_

I laid there in bed, looking at her naked back. Her perfect back, her long blonde hair, all of her. "Buffy?" I asked.

"Yes, Xander?"

"Tell me you love me. Tell me you'll never go away."

"I love you, Xander. And I promise I'll never ever go away. But now, your hour's up. So unless you want to pay me extra, we're done here."

"Alright, money's on the counter. And don't forget-"

"Yeah, yeah, keep my back to you. I'm with you, it's not like this is the first time. I gotta tell you kid, this is the easiest money I've ever made. 100 an hour just to lie next to you and pretend I'm some 17 year-old girl named Buffy. There're other things I can do for you that would make you a lot happier."

"No. You only look like her when…never mind. Just go, I'll see you next week."

I rolled away, closing my eyes tight and hating myself, just like I did every time. I listened as she dressed, collected her money and left, closing the door behind her. Finally I got up and got dressed. I looked into the mirror above the bed, and studied my reflection.

This is what I've come to. I missed her so much, I was paying a woman to lay next to me and pretend to be her. God help me, I loved her more than life itself. And she never loved me back. Never. What happened to us? To all of us? When she died, the world fell apart at the seams. I kept up a brave face for Willow and Giles and Joyce, all my usual jokes and clowning, but I died inside. We spent those first few weeks looking desperately for Angel, but he obviously didn't want to be found. When we came into that hospital room and he was there, I could have killed him. Cheerfully. But now I just want to find him – I need to know. I need to know if Buffy said anything at all before she went. It haunts me, and I need to know. Joyce said that Buffy had a diary with her in the hospital, but she never found it. Does Angel have it? What does it say? I need to know.

I haven't seen Willow in weeks. After we finally gave up the search for Angel, she went to see Giles. He won't tell me what they talked about, but after that she disappeared. No matter how much I beg, badger or threaten Giles, all he'll say is that Willow will be found when she wants to be found. Damn that stupid British pride of his, that pathetic code of honor he bears like a cross – he knows, but it would be violating a trust for him to tell me. She's my best friend – I need to know.

Is Buffy in a better place? That's what everyone keeps telling me. I don't know. Is she in a place where she's finally at peace? Where all the anger, evil, sorrow and suffering of this world have finally let her rest? Or is it all a lie? Has she just winked out like a light bulb, gone forever? I need to know.

Why didn't we see the signs? How could something as deadly as what she had just sneak up on us? We were her friends. It was our job – no, our duty – to take care of her. And we failed. How could we do that? How could we be so blind? Dammit, Willow, where are you? I need – I need to know.

I don't know how long I stood there, lost in thought. When I looked up again, I saw my reflection. Disgusted with myself, I drew back and let fly, smashing the mirror with my right hand. Of course, I wasn't Buffy, so I broke my hand, and it started to bleed. For the longest time I just stood there, watching the blood drip onto the cheap, cigarette-stained carpet the motel had in every room. As I watched the red roses bloom on the carpet, I finally gave up. There was only one way to get the answers I needed, and it was a one-way trip. I was halfway to the bathroom to draw a bath when there was a knock at the door.

"Look, I paid you already!" I shouted, "just take a hike! I'll see you next week!"

The knock came again, more insistently. I went to the door, and looked through the peephole, only to see something I couldn't believe. I opened the door, and Willow basically fell into my arms.

"Willow? What's wrong?"

She looked at me with glazed eyes – it was only then I noticed the blood on her clothes. "Xander. I found you. You have to hurry."

"Hurry? Willow, what-"

"HURRY! It's here! In Sunnydale! It knows the new slayer's in town, and it's coming for her! You've got to warn Buffy's sister!"

* * *

Author's Note the Fourth: Sorry for the cliffhanger yet again. There'll be one more chapter of this one, and then everything will be tied up in the sequel. And as random as these chapters seem, I swear I do have a plan - it'll all become clear later on. 


	4. For What It's Worth

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – "For What It's Worth" belongs to Buffalo Springfield (and is also the second-best protest song ever), and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: PG-13, for a little bad language and adult themes, and a whole lot of angst.

Author's Note: Chapter 4. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with. Sorry for the long delay in getting this one up, folks, but between moving into my dorm and starting classes, it's been nuts. Also, I was struck with an idea for how this story should go the other day, and it necessitated a complete rewrite of this chapter. Sorry for it being a short one, but this one is kind of the bridge between the last couple cliffhangers and the meat of the story where they'll be answered!

* * *

_There's something happening here_  
_What it is ain't exactly clear_  
_There's a man with a gun over there_  
_Tellin' me I got to beware_

"For the last time, Xander, I will not tell you where Willow has gone. She will be found when she chooses to be found, and not before. Goodbye."

I knew I should never have got this bothersome mobile. The only calls I've had on the blasted thing since I got it were from Xander. Not that I would tell him where Willow was – even if I did know. The boy simply assumed that since she had come to me before she disappeared, I would know where she went. In truth, I hadn't the slightest idea. All she had told me was that she simply couldn't cope with Buffy's death and Angel's dropping off the face of the earth (a sentiment I shared) and that she was going somewhere to get her head straight. I did not – could not – ask where she was bound, and that was the last I had heard of her.

_There's battle lines being drawn_  
_Nobody's right when everybody's wrong_

The mobile rang again, prompting dirty looks from those around me who were visiting their loved ones. With an apologetic smile, I picked it up and shouted "Dammit, Xander, I don't know where she went!"

"Giles? Rupert Giles? You're a difficult man to find."

"Who is this?"

"Sir Anthony Fredericton the Third."

"And should that name actually mean something to me, or are you calling to sell me better long distance?"

"I'm with the watcher's council, Rupert. There's something you need to know. Your work isn't done."

"I don't think I've ever met you, sir, but just in case no one told you I don't work for the council anymore. With…the passing of my slayer, my duties to you are ended. I thought I had made it perfectly clear that as far as I'm concerned, the lot of you can sod off."

"Rupert, listen to me. Something is coming to Sunnydale. Something I can't even begin to describe to you over the phone. Suffice it to say, it must be defeated."

"And how do you propose I go about that, you stupid git? Should I research it to death, or maybe pretend Buffy's alive and hope it believes me when I tell him to leave before she gets back from her walk? I saw that work on Star Trek once!"

"That's why I'm calling, Rupert. The new slayer has been called, and she's in Sunnydale right now. This thing is after her, and she needs to know. Given that the council is rather short-staffed at the moment, we're requesting that you take on the position of her watcher. If you head for Ms. Summers' house, I believe you'll find her there. We're not sure why she's going there, but we have reliable reports that she is. The slayer's name is Faith, and she'll be traveling with a younger sister, whose name is Dawn."

"I…"

"She needs you, Rupert. She has no idea who she is, and she has no clue about what's after her. Without your help, this may be over before it even begins."

Without waiting for my reply, he ended the call. My mind was racing out of control. Could I really go through all this again? I thought that part of my life was over when Buffy died. My soul went with her when she left. I was her father – well, as close as she had – and I never expected to have to say goodbye to her. When she needed me most, what could I do? Nothing - absolutely nothing. Could I be an effective watcher to another slayer? Of course not – if I could be, I wouldn't even be asking the question. And yet, here I was getting ready to go and meet this poor girl. A new slayer who - if Sir Anthony was correct - already had this new big bad after her. I couldn't help her.

Finally, I reached the spot I had been looking for when Xander rang me. The place I went every day, without fail. I knelt next to the gray slab bearing her name, and laid down the flowers I carried. "Good afternoon, Buffy," I said. "It's me again."

"We all still miss you. None of us has truly been the same since the day you left us. I wish you were here to fill the holes we all seem to be carrying in our hearts – and to find Angel. I worry that he's done something – well, something that he cannot take back. And if the watcher's council is right, we may find ourselves in great need of him soon.

"Or rather, the new slayer will have need of him. As for me – I can't, Buffy. I just can't. It's shirking my duties, I know, but I'm not capable anymore. I lost you, Buffy, and I can't lose another. It has to be someone else that takes up my post. I'm going to call the council and tell them I won't do this."

I planted a small kiss on the stone, as I did every day, then pulled the mobile from its clip and began to dial – and then I heard a quiet voice from behind me.

"S-She says you c-can't do that."

_A thousand people in the street_  
_Singin' songs and carryin' signs_  
_Mostly say hooray for our side_

I whipped around fast enough to give myself whiplash. There was a mousy-looking blond girl there, one I had never seen before. "What? What was that?"

The girl shook her head. "S-She says you c-can't abandon your p-post. That you c-can't give up."

"Who are you?"

"My name is T-Tara, but that's n-not important. She says her name is B-Buffy, and she has a message you h-have to hear – she s-says she doesn't have much time."

As much as I wanted to get up and walk away, my curiosity got the better of me. "All right, then, what's this message?"

"I'll t-try and get this r-right, because s-some of what she's s-saying is – "

Suddenly the girl's head snapped back, then forward again – and she was a different person. Her body language exuded confidence, and her voice had no stutter.

"Giles? Finally – this girl is the only one I've found who had a close enough connection to the spiritual that I could communicate with her, and through her. I've got to talk fast, because I'm not sure how long I can stay here – it's kind of a short-lived gift.

"You need to get the Scoobies back together. What's coming – well, what's coming is trouble. None of you can stop this thing alone, and you're going to need each other. You need to see to the new girl in town – Faith. She and Dawn are going to need your help – all the help you can give them. Be their father – like you were to me. You're also going to need a base of operations – something quiet and out of the way. I have a feeling the library's not going to last much longer."

"What about Angel? Do you know where he is?"

The girl's face darkened. "No. I can't see him, but I don't understand what that means. Please try to find him, though – you'll need him on your side too. This is bad Giles, easily worse than anything we ever faced together. You need to get started."

"But what is it? Can you tell me anything?" Before I could even get the last word out of my mouth, the girl – Tara – collapsed in a heap. I rushed over to revive her, but she was getting up even before I got there. "Can I take you home, Tara? Is there someone waiting for you?" I asked.

"N-No. S-She asked me to h-help you if I could, so I g-guess I'm going where y-you're going. S-she told me it w-would be dangerous, b-but her spirit was so g-gentle and kind – I n-need to help you."

I took the girl around the shoulders and helped her to her feet. We turned around to find the man I wanted to see least in the entire world standing between the two of us and the exit.

"Hello, Ripper."

* * *

Author's Note: I know, I know, another cliffhanger. But like I said up top, this chapter's the bridge. From here on, I promise to start answering some questions. Thanks for reading! 


	5. Whistle While You

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – I'm sure Joss doesn't want it anyway - and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: R, I'm guessing, for bad language and adult themes.

Dedication: To the reviewers – once again, it wouldn't be worth it without you!

Author's Note: Chapter 5. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with. Also, from here on out the story goes third person. I was going to split it into a sequel, but instead I'm just going to switch POV starting with this chapter – bad writing practice, but that's just the way it is. Lastly, sorry for the massive delay with this chapter – it's been hairy lately. But here it is!

* * *

Angel crouched in the alley behind Willy's Place, a stake gripped tightly in his hand and held to his chest. He pictured Buffy one last time in his mind, and prepared to drive it home. His hand trembled, shook, until his grip loosened and the stake fell to the pavement. "Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself. "You can't even die properly."

"Angel?" A voice called from the end of the alley. The voice sounded so familiar – suddenly it clicked. Angel vamped out, sprung to his feet and ran down the alley. He found the source of the voice, grabbed it by the throat and shoved it against the wall.

"Whistler, you bastard. How dare you come to me? How DARE you? I oughta suck you dry and leave your corpse for the rats."

"Ggghhh – " Whistler struggled to talk around the hand on his throat. Angel relaxed his grip just enough to allow him some air. "Whew. Angel, thank god I found ya in time. Will you let go of me for a second? We need to talk."

"We've got nothing to talk about, Whistler. Nothing. You remember the last time you and I had a chat? You pointed me towards her – and we both remember how that went. So no, I think I'll just hold on to you until you convince me otherwise."

"Alright, look. Here's the deal. This isn't the way it was supposed to happen. When the powers that be told me to show you Buffy, they told me she would save the world. More than once, actually. What happened to her wasn't in the plan – there's another force behind this. Something no one saw, not even the ptb."

"Nice try, Whistler. What happened to Buffy wasn't fair, but it wasn't a demon, either. So whatever little quest you want me to go on now, I just can't bring myself to care. "

"Dammit, Angel, listen to me. I know it wasn't a demon that killed her – that's not what I said. What was responsible was something much bigger than that – something that can work behind the scenes, stay out of sight even of the powers."

Angel loosened his grip a little bit more. "Alright, Whistler, say for curiosity's sake I believe this little fairy tale you're telling me is real and not something you're making up because you thought if you mentioned Buffy's name that I'd do anything – what's your point? It's done, there's nothing that can be done about it now – especially if your "powers" don't even know what it was!"

"The point is this, Angel – there's something bad headed this way; hell, it may already be here. I've seen this thing, and I don't know what it is – but more importantly, the powers _don't _see it, even after I told them where it was. Which would explain how it got to Buffy without their knowledge."

"But-"

"Right now, though, it's got something more urgent on its mind. There's a new slayer in town, and it's after her. You've gotta help her, Angel. This is no time to take the easy way out; you've still got work to do. The powers knew you wouldn't just help me outright, Angel, so they had me bring you a little gift. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it." Angel shut his eyes tight, and Whistler placed his hands on his temples. In what seemed no more than the blink of an eye, Angel saw years worth of events that had never happened – Buffy's prom, the battle with the Mayor, moving to L.A., Cordelia, Doyle, Buffy dying, Connor, Spike, Wolfram & Hart, a dragon – played out before his eyes. He staggered under the weight of all he saw, and his eyes flew open.

"What the hell was that?"

"That, Angel, was the world the way it should have been. The way it _would _have been, if this new player hadn't got in the way. Everything you saw was fated to happen – nothing should have been able to change that, absolutely nothing. But this thing has. Now do you understand how bad things are?"

A lone tear dropped from Angel's eye. "My son…I had a son…"

Whistler's face softened a little. "I know, champ. It's a lot to take in all at once, and I wish things had stayed the way they were supposed to be, but that's not the hand we got dealt. Now you need to decide if you want to play it – or fold."

Angel stood silently for a long moment, his head bowed in thought. Finally he looked up at Whistler. "I'm game."

Whistler allowed himself a small smile. "I knew you would be. And here comes just the man to deal you back in." With that, he melted into the shadows and was gone.

"Angel? Angel?"

"I'm here, Giles." The librarian rounded the corner into the alley, and Angel was shocked by the look of him. He was bloody and broken, with his left arm dangling uselessly at his side and his right eye swollen shut. Behind him stood a blonde girl he had never seen before – and she was in no better shape, her nose apparently broken and ugly red gashes torn into her stomach. "Giles, what the hell happened?"

"Angel…" he gasped. "Something…coming…"

"I know, Giles, I know. Is that what did this to you two?"

"No…right…behind us…"

Angel looked over to the girl. "What's right behind you?"

"S-some k-kind of super m-monster. W-we t-tried to f-fight it, b-but…"

"Okay, both of you stay here, and stay out of sight."

Angel dashed around the corner and ran straight into it – a Turok Han. "Alright, " he muttered to himself, "where the hell did this thing come from?" Then, the Turok Han charged. The fight lasted almost twenty minutes, but finally Angel re-entered the alley looking much worse for wear. He looked to the girl. "Okay, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"I d-don't k-know, M-Mr…Angel?"

"Just Angel'll do fine, thanks." He turned to Giles, who seemed to have recovered enough to talk. "Okay, Giles, I'm going to get you to the hospital, and then you can tell me what's going on."

"No. No hospital. We don't have enough bloody time for that – we need to get to B-" he stopped himself. "To Joyce's house. The new slayer is there, and she brought her sister - we need to protect them both from what's coming."

"Do you know what it is, Giles? My intel's a little on the vague side."

"Yes. I had a visit from-" he grimaced, "an old friend. After some…persuasion, he filled me in on what's happening, or at least as much of it as he knows."

"Do you trust him?"

"Not in the slightest. But I think the git was telling the truth."

"Why?"

Giles' face paled slightly. "Because he was terrified."

* * *

"Hello, Ripper."

"Ethan Rayne. Did your death wish finally get the best of you? Did you come down here so I can finally kill you?"

"Don't you wish, Ripper. Actually, I'm here on account of-ARGH!" he broke off as Giles punched him in the face. "Dammit, Ripper, I'm trying to tell you something." He wiped the blood from under his nose. "I'm here on account of the thing the girl was telling you about – and what is it with you and young blondes, anyway?"

"Ethan, I've got places to be – but that does NOT mean I won't spare the time to kick your ass. One more comment like that and I'll just leave your body here – they've vacancies you can fill."

"Alright, Ripper, alright. As I was saying, I'm here on account of this "thing" she's talking about. I've had quite a few of my contacts approach me recently to express their grave concerns over its appearance – apparently in demon lore it portents the end of the world, not just for people but for demons as well."

"And this thing has a name?"

"The demons call it malleus omne."

"The…hammer of all?"

"Basically. I'll spare you a tedious search for records – there aren't any. The way it's been explained to me, this thing walks like a man and talks like a man. He-It's tattooed with symbols that make it invisible to the powers that be, as well as any other higher being. I invoked Janus to search for it, but there was no luck there either. Its touch is deadly – but not in a direct way. Essentially upon touching you it can determine the manner of your death – if it decides to give you a heart attack, you have a heart attack. Same deal with a car accident, or-" he paused. "Or an incurable disease."

Giles reeled. "Ethan, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I don't know, Ripper, I truly don't. None of my contacts know when this thing was raised, and since it doesn't directly kill anyone, it's been pretty much off the radar. Until now."

"What changed?"

"It's raising an army. Any demons that'll follow it are promised they'll be spared when the end comes. It's seeking out the worst of the worst – even raised some Turok Han. And the army is being lead right here – to the hellmouth."

"Why here? If this thing can end the world, what need does it have of the hellmouth?"

"It's not the hellmouth that it wants, Ripper. It's a girl." Off Giles' confused look, Ethan continued. "According to the legend, there's supposed to be a girl – a human girl – with supernatural powers. She's supposedly the only one in all the world immune to the malleus' effects, and the only one who can stop it from ending the world. And this girl is supposedly here in Sunnydale."

"How can this girl stop it?"

"Don't know, Ripper." Giles raised a fist. "I swear, I really don't. You know as well as I do that the old legends are vague and lacking on details. No one and nothing I could find knew how that part went. It's not written down anywhere, and the old stories have been forgotten over the millennia, even by the demon world."

"How will we know it if we see it?"

"You may not. But if you see a man or a woman with any of these-" he passed Giles a sheet of paper filled with arcane symbols, "tattooed on it anywhere, I strongly advise you to go the other direction. Quickly."

"Well, Ethan, if that's all you know I suppose we should get moving. But one last question – how do I know you're not feeding me a line?"

"Because it's my ass on the line too, old friend." He looked over Giles' head at something behind him. "Speaking of my ass, I think it's time I took it elsewhere. So long, Ripper. Good luck."

Giles watched Ethan as he ran from the cemetery, then turned around to see what he was running from. A Turok Han.

"Oh, crap."


	6. Under Your Spell

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – I'm sure Joss doesn't want it anyway - and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: R, I'm guessing, for bad language and adult themes.

Dedication: To the reviewers – thanks for sticking with me this far!

Author's Note: Chapter 6. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with. This chapter showed up a little faster than the last one, no? Might be a bit of a lag on the next one, though – I think it's going to be the hardest one to write.

* * *

"Tell him to drive faster, Xander."

"Will, it's a taxi. They can only drive the speed limit – usually less, actually. I'd be driving myself, if it wasn't for the minor hand breakage I seem to be experiencing." Xander dangled his limp hand in front of Willow's face for effect. "You should be in the hospital yourself. We'll be at Buffy's soon. Now what the hell's going on?"

"It's a long story."

"Make it short."

"Well, you know I went to see Giles, so let's start there…"

* * *

"Giles, I have to leave. The endless searching for Angel, missing Buffy, the haunted look in everyone's eyes – I just can't take it anymore."

"I understand, Willow – truly I do. Is there anything I could do for you before you go? Do you need money?"

Willow smiled wryly. "No, thanks. The Rosenbergs are decently well off – and if I'm gone for a few weeks, neither of them are likely to even notice." She turned serious. "Are you sure that you-that it'll be okay if I leave? I feel like I'm abandoning you somehow."

"Willow – you have no idea how much it still pains me to say this – Buffy's gone. I've looked a thousand times for a way to make that not so, but there simply isn't one. You're seventeen years old –much too young for the kind of cares and worries that this town has thrust upon you. If you feel that getting away would help, then by all means do so. Otherwise you're going to end up doing what Xander's doing – withdrawing into himself to avoid the world. Please, go and do what you need to do."

Willow got up on her toes and kissed Giles' unshaven cheek. "Thank you, Giles. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll come back – I promise. Take care of yourself, and most importantly stop blaming yourself. You meant more to Buffy than you could ever know – and she knows, wherever she is, that you did all you could. She wouldn't want you to be miserable forever."

As she walked out the door, Giles allowed the tears he'd been holding back to fall. "Thank you, Willow," he said quietly as the oak door closed.

* * *

"So after I left there, I headed for the bus terminal. I really had no idea where I was going, so I just picked the first city on the list – Boston. It took longer than I thought – I've never driven across the country before – but eventually we pulled into Boston. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, so I grabbed a hotel room downtown and thought about taking a sightseeing tour the next day, just because it was something to do. Of course, I should have known that my life is never that simple…"

* * *

Willow left the hotel the next morning feeling rested and refreshed. People say the first night in a hotel bed is always a poor sleep, but for her this was the first time she'd slept the night through since Buffy died. Her room carried far too memories – too much baggage – for her to sleep well in it. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of her best friend. But here she was in a new city, with an opportunity to clear her head a little.

She waited for the tour bus to slow to a stop, and climbed aboard when the door opened. She found an empty seat across from two young women who she gradually gathered were talking about something that had happened to them the night before.

"I tell ya, I never seen anything like that," said the first girl, a short redhead. "What the hell was wrong with those guys' faces?"

Willow perked up.

"I don't know," replied the second girl, a taller brunette. "And what was the deal with that girl? The way she came flying in there and started beating them down? I wish we would have stayed – I bet she destroyed those creeps. She was like some kind of superhero!"

Willow couldn't hold her tongue any longer. She leaned across the aisle of the bus and asked the redhead "sorry to interrupt, but this sounds like one crazy story – this really happened?"

The redhead looked Willow up and down for a moment and gave a brief nod like she was giving herself permission to tell the story. "Oh yeah, Bobbie" she pointed to the brunette, "and me were out getting smokes last night, and we just come out of the store when these two guys walk up and ask us if we want company. We said no and figured that was the end of it, but then they started following us. We started to run, and they followed us until they backed us into a dead-end alley. When we turned around, their faces were all…" She bunched up the skin between her eyes with two fingers.

"Bumpy?" Willow offered.

"Yeah, bumpy. They had these big pointy teeth, and we figured we were done for, right? Then this girl – about my height, black leather pants, very cool – comes flying out of nowhere and starts whaling on these guys, and I mean seriously. She yells at us to run, so Bobbie and me hightail it like we're on fire, and never look back. It was intense."

"You didn't…" Willow hesitated, "get this girl's name, by any chance?"

The redhead looked at her like she was insane. "Um, no, we weren't going to stop for a chat in the middle of running for our lives. Although, there was another girl, looked a little younger, went running into the alley as we were running out, and the ass-kickin' girl yelled something at her – 'I told you to go home…something.' Do you remember, Bobbie?"

The brunette frowned. "It was somethin' weird – Sunshine? Sunset?"

"Dawn!" The redhead burst out. "That was it, 'I told you to go home, Dawn!' How come you're so curious, anyhow?"

Willow fumbled for a convenient excuse. "Oh, I…uh, think I know the girl you're talking about. Some friends of hers have been looking for her. Where exactly was it that you saw her?"

"The alley's at fourth and main, next to the Holiday Inn and that weird bookstore – I don't remember what it's called. But I don't know which direction she came from."

"Thanks for all your help," Willow said as she shook the redhead's hand. She walked to the front of the bus, leaving the redhead to mutter "what a weirdo." After some conversation and an extremely generous tip, the tour bus driver called a taxi for her and let her off. In minutes, she was on her way back through downtown Boston, looking for the alley the girls had described.

* * *

"Run this by me again, Will. You thought this girl was the new slayer?"

"Right."

"And you wanted to find her because.."

"I don't know. It just felt like something I had to do. I remembered what a rough time of it Buffy had her first year here, and I thought maybe the girl could use my help – after all, she wouldn't have to explain the slayer thing to me or anything, right? And having a sister, too – I figured that couldn't be easy. Mostly I had just felt so useless since Buffy left us that I would have given anything to be a part of something again."

* * *

It hadn't taken too long to find the alley the girls had told her about. The hard part now was figuring out which way the "superhero" had come from. The Holiday Inn on the one side of the alley just seemed too obvious, but Willow decided she might as well start there – maybe she'd catch a break. She walked through the front door of the hotel and walked straight to the front desk, catching the concierge's eye. "Excuse me?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm looking for a friend of mine – about yay high," she gestured, taking a wild guess as to the girl's height, "favors black leather, has a younger sister named Dawn?"

"Oh, you mean the weird chick in 730. Yeah, she said she'd be sending someone to pick up her stuff. That you?"

Struggling to keep the excitement from her voice, Willow replied "yep, that's me all right. Come to pick up my friend's stuff."

The concierge handed her the room key. "Make sure you get everything," he said, "and drop the key off here at the desk when you're done."

Watching Willow board the elevator, the concierge picked up his phone and dialed. "Yes, it's me. I think we've got a bead on her. Get down here to room 730 right away."

Willow entered the room to find it a disaster – the girls had obviously left in a hurry. She had dug through the scattered belongings for twenty minutes, and was ready to quit, when she discovered a small diary taped to the underside of the room's only desk. The blue leather cover read 'Property of Dawn Lehane.' Willow cleared off a spot on the room's bed and sat down to read. It didn't take long for Willow to truly feel for this girl and her sister, Faith. Daughters to an alcoholic mother, they had left home two years before Buffy died, and been on their own since then, moving from city to city. Dawn's diary was extensive, touching on Faith's calling as a slayer and the death of her watcher – although with no mention of who or what had killed her.

The last twenty pages, however, were what made Willow sit up and take notice. Following repeated references to a "tattooed guy" who was pursuing them, along with what Dawn referred to as "a bunch of other creepy-crawlies," was a last entry which had obviously been written in haste.

_Dear Diary:_

_This'll be the last entry in this book. Faith says the tattooed guy knows where we are, and we have to go. We're heading for a place in California called Sunnydale. I'm leaving my diary here – Faith doesn't know I've been keeping it, and she'd probably get all grumpy if she found out. Although she's been weird lately anyway – she keeps giving me the oddest looks when she thinks I can't see her. Anyway, she's calling me again – yeah, yeah, I'm coming – so I've gotta go. Hopefully I'll be back for this book one day; I liked Boston._

Willow got up slowly, tapping the diary against the back of her hand while she considered what to do next. After a minutes' thought, she decided she needed to find Faith – and that meant getting back to Sunnydale. No bus this time – a plane would be the only way to get there before Faith. She was two steps from the door when it exploded inwards, throwing her backwards into the wall and knocking her unconscious.

She wasn't sure how long she was unconscious – but she couldn't move. She gradually fought her way back to consciousness to find herself firmly affixed to the hotel's bed. She was about to scream for help when she saw the nondescript man sitting at the end of her bed. He put his finger to his lips in the universal "quiet" gesture – which is when she noticed the tattoos on the back of his hands. That, as well as the two creatures on either side of him, convinced her it wouldn't be such a great idea to make noise. She held her breath as the man leaned toward her.

"Well, hello there," he said in a pleasant voice with an accent she couldn't quite place. "We thought you were never gonna wake up. Golly, that bump on the head must be more than it looks. Now, I know you're afraid, but there's no need of that. I'm just going to ask you one question, and when you answer, you can go. No strings attached." With this last, he raised his hand in the "scout's honor" salute.

Willow almost stammered her response, but the images of all her friends, and thoughts of Faith and Dawn, gave her enough courage to steady her voice. "What question might that be?"

"I think you know, sweetheart, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt – once. Where are they? I know they're not in Boston anymore, but I seem to have lost them temporarily."

"Why don't you just read that?" Willow asked, indicating the diary he held in his hands.

"You know, dear, the thought had occurred to me. Trouble is the damn thing – 'scuse my French, dear – the _darn_ thing – got all singed when the door blew in. I know it had their destination in it, and I know you read it, but now it's wrecked. So I have to impose on you a little."

"I don't remember."

"Please don't lie to me. You're too sweet a girl to tell lies, I can tell just by looking at you." He moved up the bed and sat down near her head. He extended a hand, and waved it over her face. "I can kill you, just by touching you. Just once touch, and that'd be it. But that wouldn't just be impolite, it would be downright useless. See, if I did that, you'd be dead. And if you were dead, I couldn't find out what I need to know. So why not just tell me, and spare yourself the pain – not to mention saving me the time?"

Willow set her jaw. "No. I'm not telling you anything. Go ahead and kill me."

The man sighed. Getting up from the bed, he turned to the creature closest to him. "Make sure you don't kill her – try not to even break anything. When she tells us what we need to know, I want her to be able to walk out of here – I promised, after all." The creatures closed in on Willow, each brandishing some different implement of torture. Willow watched them close in on her, her mind racing. She told herself she wouldn't scream, wouldn't tell them what she knew.

To her credit, she lasted almost a half-hour. But as brave as she tried to be, and for all the courage she could muster, she wasn't a slayer or a soldier. She was just a scared seventeen year old girl in a terrific amount of pain. Finally she told the man what he needed to know. "Sunnydale?" He said wonderingly. "It seems to me I've been there before – have I been there before?" The creature next to him leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Oh, yes," he said cheerfully, "that bit of business. Thank you." He bent over Willow's bed to whisper in her ear. "And thank you, dear. I'm sorry about this unpleasantness, but now you get to leave, just like I promised. We're going to untie you, and then we're going to leave. Just stay here for a while, regain some strength, and then you can head to the hospital down the road. I'll have the man at the front desk call a cab for you. Oh, and one more thing – following me to Sunnydale would be a terribly bad idea." The creatures removed Willow's bonds, and they and the man simply walked out the door.

* * *

"And that was it? He just let you go?"

"He was as good as his word. It took me almost two hours to be able to get out of bed, but when I finally made it downstairs there was a cab at the front door. It took me to the hospital – I gave them a fake name and paid in cash, 'cause I didn't want to leave any record there. I was there for two days. When I left, I headed straight for the airport. I knew he had a big lead on me, but I hoped maybe he was driving, or something. I hopped a one-way to L.A., and caught a bus from there to Sunnydale."

"So when did this-" Xander indicated the blood on her clothing, "happen?"

"Be patient, I'm getting to that. When I got off the bus, I headed for the depot, but before I got there something grabbed me from behind. It put a knife to my throat and dragged me behind the depot. When it spun me around, I saw it was one of the creatures from Boston. In this low, raspy voice it said 'He warned you not to come here. Now you die.' It slashed me a few good ones with the knife-" she lifted her shirt a little to show the cuts in her stomach, "but then a security guard came around the corner and it ran off. The guard helped me into a cab – I promised him I'd go to the hospital – and I went to your house. You weren't there, of course, but your Uncle Rory let me into your room. I found a receipt on your dresser for the motel, and I figured I'd take a shot at finding you there. The guy at the desk told me what room you were in, and then he said something odd about me being different than your usual."

Xander flushed. "I don't know what he was talking about. Crazy bellhop guy is obviously drugged or something."

Willow looked at him hard for a second, then shook her head, as if deciding to pursue the matter later. "So anyway, that's about where you come in. And that, in short, is where I've been."

"That's quite the story, Will. It's almost – oh, no."

"What?"

"Look!" Xander gestured out the window. In front of Buffy's house, Faith was grappling with a monster – what sort neither of them could tell – while Joyce shielded Dawn. Willow and Xander threw a pile of money at the cab driver, then jumped out of the cab and rushed toward the fight. From the other side of the house, they saw Angel running as fast as he could – almost flying – and all three of them joined the battle at once.


	7. The Greatest of These

Disclaimer: Only the story is mine – I'm sure Joss doesn't want it anyway - and of course Buffy and the gang belong to Joss and the WB.

Rating: R, I'm guessing, for bad language and adult themes.

Dedication: To the reviewers – thanks for sticking with me this far, and I hope some of you are interested enough to come back to the tale!

Author's Note: Chapter 7. All of this is strictly A/U, of course, as Better Angels was A/U to begin with.

* * *

_There is Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these is Love._

Dawn and Joyce both stared at Faith, equally confused. After a long moment of silence, Faith repeated herself. "She's supposed to be your daughter."

Dawn stared angrily at her sister. "What the hell is wrong with you? What do you mean, I was supposed to be her daughter?"

Joyce looked at Dawn, then back at Faith. "I have to second her question. What is wrong with you?"

"Joyce-Mrs. Summers – just listen to me. I know it's not easy to hear or accept, but I can explain if you'll let me. If we can just come in for a second-"

"No, I don't think so. I think you should get off my porch before I call the police."

"Okay, fine. We'll discuss it out here, then. You had a daughter named Buffy, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And at her fourth birthday party, she tripped on a loose piece of carpet and fell down the stairs. You took her to the emergency room, and while they were examining her a tired intern came out of another exam room and mistook you for another family. He told you she was dead."

Dawn and Joyce stared at Faith in amazement. "Yes," said Joyce, the confusion apparent in her voice. "That's right, but how did you know that?"

"Because I remember you telling the story." Faith held up her hand to forestall Joyce's objections. "I know exactly what this sounds like – bullshit – but I'm telling you the truth. If you'll let us inside, I can explain everything to you…well, almost everything."

Frowning, Joyce thought for a long moment before stepping back and allowing the two girls in.

"Alright," said Faith as she flopped down on Joyce's couch. "Here's the deal, beginning to end, so no interruptions." She looked over at Dawn, who was still standing at the entrance to the living room. "Dawnie, you might as well come in too – you're not going to want to hear some of this, but you need to. I would have told you everything earlier, but there was no time, and I only wanted to tell this story once. So here goes:

* * *

Dawn is not my sister. Dawn's not actually anyone's sister. About a month ago, I was fighting this demon – big and red, I don't know what it was called – and it hit me. Cut me open, as a matter of fact. I really didn't think much of it – been cut before, after all – but it turned out this wasn't garden variety. The claw it cut me with carried some kind of hallucinogen, and it messed me up pretty bad for a while. I killed the thing, and Dawn got me back to the hotel, but for the rest of the day I just laid in bed, with the shakes and shivers and all that crap. Most interesting side effect, though, was that there was times Dawn just wasn't there. I could hear her talking to me, but I couldn't see a thing. 

Even after I recovered, the feeling never went away. I'd look at the few pictures of me and her we kept with us, and she'd fade in an out of them like a cheap TV signal. I thought maybe I was going crazy, so I went to see a seer – normally I don't have a lot of patience for the sideshow garbage these guys do, but the demons in town seemed kind of in awe of the guy, so I figured what the hell, seems like a good idea now. So I went and saw him. He took one look at me and invited me in – no appointment or nothing and there was a dozen other things waiting to see him, but none of them complained. They looked afraid of me, actually. And given that I was the slayer, I didn't think any more of that.

He takes me in, and at first I figured it was the bunch of crap I'd been expecting – there was a crappy lookin' crystal ball, the bead curtain, all that junk. But as I went to sit down he shakes his head at me. "Not here," he says. "Not for you." And he leads me into this back room, full of weird junk – jars with heads in 'em, all kinds of stuff – and tells me to sit down at this little kitchen table. I did, and he sat down across from me and took my hand. I damn near hit him, but he just smiled at me and I stopped – no look on anyone's face ever made me stop like that. He looked me up and down and said "it's unfortunate, my darling child."

"I'm not your child," I said.

He just smiled again, and again I stopped. "You know she's not your sister," he says. I nodded. "It was not supposed to be this way," he says, his eyes gettin' sad. "This burden was not meant to be yours."

"What burden?"

"The girl – Dawn – was meant to be entrusted to another. The other Slayer."

"What is she?"

"The key."

"The key to what?"

"The future. There is a creature – you know him, he is tattooed and walks like a man – and he will bring about the future's end if he is not stopped. The slayer – the other – was supposed to do so."

"If the slayer was supposed to stop it, then what does Dawn have to do with anything?"

"She is the only person on Earth immune to its effects. The slayer's job was to protect the key until it could defeat the creature."

"Okay…I think I'm following you. But what's the deal with my remembering her – her being my sister? And why could I suddenly see through the whole thing?"

"The key was energy – it needed to be hidden, disguised – so it was forged into a person. And the slayer needed a reason to protect it. So a spell was cast to reform the memories of the slayer's life to include the key. But there was a complication no-one could have foreseen."

"The slayer died."

"Yes."

"Was it this creature?"

"We do not know. But it required sudden adjustment of the spell to fit your memories instead."

"That's why it's goin' screwy."

"Yes. The implantation was not perfect, and still contained memories created for the original target."

"And why could I see through it all of a sudden?"

"The demon you fought – the drug its' claw contained was the carrier of a powerful mystical agent. It altered your consciousness enough that you could see through the spell surrounding the key. Even once its effects wore off, your mind couldn't go back to believing the spell once you'd seen through it."

So then I asked him what I could do. He looked at me and shook his head. "Protect her," he says. "The creature will raise an army to kill her, for he cannot do so himself. It falls to you, I'm sorry to say, to shield her from his armies until she can destroy the creature itself."

"So on a scale of one to 'oh, shit,' how bad is the army he's raising?"

"The worst of the worst. Creatures not seen on Earth since the beginning of days."

"So, 'oh, shit' then. Is there someplace I can hide Dawn? Someplace she'll be safe?"

The seer thought for a while – long enough I thought maybe he'd fallen asleep on me, actually – and then gave me an address. This address. He said there was still a part of your daughter in Dawn and that you might be able to offer her safe haven if I could get you here undetected. And that's why we're here.

* * *

Joyce thought for a long moment before she shook her head. "No." 

"No? What the hell do you mean, no?"

"I'm sorry, young lady, but I simply can't accept that story. And even if I could, I still couldn't take her in. You're saying that there's an army of…things after her, and some thing so dangerous only this teenage girl can stop her. And you would ask me to protect her from an army, and to accept her as my own daughter? I'm sorry – I've lost my only daughter, and I wasn't looking to adopt another one."

"Fine," Faith snarled, grabbing Dawn – still in shock from her revelations – and heading for the front door. She turned the knob, and they'd made it a few steps before the Turok Han that had been waiting outside jumped her. It knocked her flat and turned toward Dawn. "Joyce!" Faith screamed. "Keep her out of the way – please!" She rose and jumped on the Turok Han's back, holding it firmly around the neck as Joyce pulled Dawn behind her, with her back to the house's outside wall.

Faith continued to grapple the vampire as a taxi pulled up on the street behind her. She didn't notice the two people running toward her – but she did notice the man, faster than any human she'd ever seen, running from around the far side of the house. He threw himself into the fray, raining blows down on the Turok Han as the two people from the taxi dove into the uber-vampire low, chopping it down hard at the knees.

* * *

Author's Note: The next update won't take nearly as long as this one. Promise! 


End file.
